Musical Chairs

I believe I have sat in every single chair in the waiting room at the doctor's office and in every single angle whithin five minutes, trying to find a comfortable position. If there is a hidden security camera around here, whoever is watching is thinking, "What in the world is she doing?"

Once they bring me into the private room and while I wait seating up on the doctor's table, swinging my legs, I catch a glimpse of myself on the mirror by the wall (why do they have a mirror right there? I don't know. Maybe to remind pregnant ladies of how huge they look seating up in an unflattering hospital gown?). I stopped swinging my legs abruptly and said out loud, "Oh my lord! I look like the letter B."

Doctor thinks I am gaining weight at the right rate (12lbs thus far), whatever that means. He predicts I may gain another 15 pounds. I can't imagine getting any bigger or any more uncomfortable. Someone needs to explain to mother nature that I am five feet tall and that thirty pounds in me looks and feels a lot different than thirty pounds in a lady of normal height.

He then proceeds to check on the baby's heart rate with a doppler and, what do you know, my octopus kicks it away; doesn't want anyone poking him. "Oh, he is a kicker," doctor says. "I know," I say proudly. "He doesn't like cell phones resting on him either."

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